Archduke ★★★★★

“BANG!”

That onomatopoeic burst of dialogue is shouted out in desperation right at the end of the first act of Archduke, Rajiv Joseph’s thrilling new play now at Roundabout’s Laura Pels Theatre. It’s no ordinary cue for intermission: the explosive word slices the air with a bracing shiver before blackout. It also neatly sums up the play’s first half, which is, quite simply, a banger. The second act may not fully sustain that momentum, but taken as a whole, this darkly comic drama is very much a coup.

The title, of course, refers to the most famous archduke in history, Franz Ferdinand, whose assassination in Sarajevo in 1914 was the spark that ignited the First World War. But the play isn’t about him; rather, it focuses on his would-be assassins, all impoverished teenagers with the death sentence of tuberculosis on their heads: Trifko (Adrian Rolet), Nedeljko (Jason Sanchez), and Gavrilo (Jake Berne), the last the one who successfully completed his task.

Referred and thrown together by the same doctor who diagnosed their mortal illnesses, the three meet one night in an abandoned warehouse before being taken to the opulent home of Dragutin “Apis” Dimitrijevic (Patrick Page), the leader of the Black Hand, the secret society formed by angry Serbian military officers who wanted to liberate Serbia from Austro-Hungarian occupation. With some culinary assistance from his housekeeper and cook, Sladjana (Kristine Nielsen), who prepares a feast for the famished recruits, Apis fuels his potential killers with angry righteousness once their bellies are sated. A natural teacher, he uses the Socratic method to get the teenagers to come to his way of thinking:

“How is history generated?

Or rather, what fuels the epic poem of humanity?

Or rather, how does man imprint upon a callous, unforgiving reality the delicate grooves of his own desire?

Or rather, what is a Man? Or a Serb?

What is the meaning of the word ‘Unification’? Do any of you have the slightest notion?”

Though they are more interested in food, the boys prize the attention from this powerful man who is eager to nourish their bodies and radicalize their minds. It’s clear that the banquet is meant to be educational; behind Apis is a giant illuminated map of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, one he uses to equate the state of their nation with the boys’ diseases:

“Understand the map as a physical being! This is a living body, with a virulent infection here… in Vienna and here… in Budapest… And with these infections, illness hemorrhages through the secondary and tertiary organs of the body, and we, the Slavic states, become the cesspool of someone else’s sickness. (beat; he looks intently at each boy) You boys… my young men… You are dying of someone else’s sickness.”

The teens have no chance against this older, experienced man. He persuades them to do his bidding by focusing on the facts of their short, difficult lives before doubling down on their feelings: Do they want to be remembered? Do they want their lives to have meaning? The assassins answer in the affirmative, but, being virile young men, they also want to have sex. And a sandwich.

Ah, youth.

Though Archduke is set in 1914, its portrayal of young men seduced by the promise of purpose feels disturbingly contemporary. Joseph draws clear parallels between Apis’s recruitment tactics and the ways charismatic leaders and online movements radicalize alienated youth today. What begins as philosophical banter over nationalism and mortality becomes a study in how desperation and manipulation intertwine and how easily the powerless can be convinced that destruction equals destiny.

In Archduke, as in his plays Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo and Guards at the Taj, Joseph seizes on a moment in history and refracts it through his singular worldview to illuminate modern concerns. And because he focuses on those who would normally be thought of as minor characters in the factual narrative (and thus about whom not much is actually known), he wisely gives himself leeway to create historical fantasias that can bounce easily between comedy and tragedy. Facts can be funny.

The actual circumstances of Franz Ferdinand’s assassination are ideal fodder for Joseph: Ferdinand and his wife, Duchess Sophie Chotek, were shot when their driver made a wrong turn onto a side street where Gavrilo was randomly standing in front of a delicatessen, eager to get a sandwich. And that was after an earlier attempt that same morning, when Nedeljko threw a grenade that didn’t go off in time because of its 10-second delay.

Surprisingly, Joseph doesn’t fully mine the random absurdity of the historic event. The facts get mentioned, but it feels like a lost opportunity the way they are presented. And once the three teenage assassins find themselves on the train to Sarajevo, the play loses traction, possibly because Patrick Page has left the stage.

Page is a force majeure as Apis. Commanding and magnetic, with a resonant voice capable of rattling foundations, he’s utterly credible as a man who’s created a cult of personality. Comedic treasure Nielsen plays it big and goofy in her inimitable fashion, but it’s her quieter moments in the second act that truly reverberate. Bern, Rolet, and Sanchez round out the cast, making auspicious Off-Broadway debuts as the three teenage assassins. No doubt we will be seeing much more of them in the near future.

Director Darko Tresnjak draws detailed, dynamic work from his ensemble and design team, with sound designer Jane Shaw especially notable for her subtle sonic landscapes that underscore the story’s inherent sadness without overstatement.